


Episode 46: Hesitations

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [46]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clan Ordo, Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clan, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "I don't have the luxury of blind faith." ~GarrigonIt's too late to turn back, but Chellin's last minute realizations might spell trouble.
Series: Clan Meso'a [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 46: Hesitations

“These should be easier than the old way,” said Ibri, handing her brother a small medical case, “You only need to take one of these a week.”   
Garrigon accepted the case and set it beside his stack of datapads, “You’d think with all this technology we could have cured allergies by now.”   
Ibri laughed mirthlessly, “I think that joke is getting funnier. Tell it again tomorrow, okay?”  
Garrigon raised an eyebrow, “And I think you’re needed elsewhere.”   
She rolled her eyes and turned to the door, “See you at dinner?”  
“Always.”   
She smiled as she backed out and gave him a messy salute. He muttered something about siblings under his breath before pulling the case back to him and studying the contents. Four neat packages of green pills stared up at him.   
“At least these are smaller,” he lamented, slamming the case shut and shoving it into a side drawer.   
“I take it Ibri just came by?” asked a voice from the entryway.   
“Yes, your wife has graced me with her presence only a minute ago,” said Garrigon, rocking back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head, “You want an update?”  
Chellin put up his hand, “Not yet. I just spoke with Jiik so he’s got them covered for a little while yet.”   
“Good, good. Gives us a moment to strategize.”   
Chellin nodded, “This has been generations in the making after all.”   
“That is if we’re correct.”   
“I believe we are.”   
Garrigon nodded and stared up at the same gray steel that made up the walls and floor. His office, adjacent to Ordo’s main comm hub, was small and cozy. He had his metal desk, a few odd plants his sister insisted would spruce the place up, a mythosaur banner, and an ugly brown area rug he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of even after years of nieces and nephews tracking mud onto it or learning they weren’t quite as refresher trained as their parents swore they were. He’d cleaned it of course, but whenever he decided to get rid of it, the room felt empty and cold. For now it was at the foot of a series of records shelving that covered the wall to his right. At least when he was standing there for hours at a time, pouring over research, his feet would be comfortable. The only light sources aside from the ambient lights of mechanical bits and bobs were a pair of lamps also gifted by his sister. They were from Naboo, she’d said. Garrigon never cared for decorations and they were far too decadent for his taste, but Ibri always asserted that if she had to spend any time in his “closet of an office”, she should at least enjoy it. The small sofa instead of standard metal chairs in front of his desk was also an Ibri addition. Chellin always made good use of it, often found napping on it between patrols or on nights where he had to coordinate an overnight operation. That’s probably what made them such good friends. Garrigon and Chellin spent hours sitting just like this across from one another talking about everything from politics and hunts to the self awareness Clan leaders often deal with late at night. Chellin dealt with his through introspection and long talks about the ideology of leadership. Garrigon with a good brandy. It worked out, though, as one would drink to the point where the other’s metaphorical ramblings started to make sense.   
“Do you think they want to be found?”   
“Hm?” Garrigon hummed, returning his gaze to his brother in law.   
“It’s been centuries since we’ve gotten this close, and,” he added, leaning back against the worn cushions, “I can’t help but feel like we’re doing the wrong thing.”   
Garrigon snorted, “Heh, well it’s a little late now don’t you think?”  
“Indeed,” Chellin agreed, “but there’s been a small part of me that wonders what will happen if we find them.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Chellin didn’t reply for a moment. He was nibbling the side of his thumb, eyes fixed on something distant.   
“I think, and feel free to call me paranoid-”  
“You’re not paranoid,” Garrigon interjected.   
Chellin smiled slightly, “Thank you, but this might be a little paranoid on my part because after all this time, after cutting off contact with who knows how many of us, would reestablishing that link only create a much larger problem?”  
Garrigon lowered his elbows to the desk and laced his fingers in front of him, “In what way?”  
Chellin gestured broadly, “I’m just thinking out loud here, but do you think there’s a reason they’ve been so secretive? Like they’re protecting something?”  
“Protecting something,” Garrigon repeated, eyes scanning an invisible set of data, “You...actually might have a point.”   
“Exactly,” said Chellin, tapping the air with his finger, “I’m starting to think they’re movements aren’t hostile but protective, reactionary if you will.”   
“Like they’re trying to keep people away from something.”  
“Or someone.”   
“Someone?”  
Chellin nodded, “Now, this is just a theory, but what if they’ve developed a new technology in all this time? What if, like their ancestors, they turned back to bigger, more powerful weapons as a way to deal with a galaxy that appears hostile to them?”  
“And they’re trying to hide them or the people responsible for them?”  
“Precisely.”  
Garrigon shook his head and sat back, “That’s… a lot to process, and quite frankly I don’t know how I feel about that possibility.”   
“I wouldn’t be telling anyone but you if I thought it was a throwaway theory.”   
“Even still, what led you to believe that?”   
He shrugged, “It’s less what I’ve seen and more what I feel. They’re protecting something, they’ve got to be. Whether it be themselves or something else.”   
“It’s that something else that’s got me worried,” Garrigon sighed, rolling his shoulders and yawning, “but it’s too late now.”   
“That it is,” Chellin agreed.   
“So,” Garrigon rocked his chair idly, “If we find they do have a weapon of some kind, how do we proceed?”  
“I’m not sure, really,” Chellin scratched his chin, “At any other point in history I might be inclined to applaud a new form of military advancement but right now-”  
“The clans would see that as a threat.”  
“The Republic would see that as a threat as would the Separatists,” Chellin rubbed the bridge of his nose, “If they have a weapon the best thing to do would be to leave it a secret, to-”  
“To not disturb the wampa nest.”   
“To not disturb the wampa nest, exactly.”   
Garrigon chewed his lip, “Then we’ll need to form a contingency plan. We have a day before they make contact with the ship and whatever’s left on it. I’m willing to bet we’ll find some evidence of whatever it is they’re guarding on that…” he trailed off, his eyes growing wide.   
“What?”  
Garrigon looked startled then face-palmed, “Dammit, did we ever consider this could be a trap?!”  
Chellin looked at him like he’d suddenly lost it, “We always assume things are a trap until-”  
“No no, not a literal trap like the ship being rigged to blow but,” Garrigon got to his feet, “What if they do want to be found but don’t want to make the first move?”   
Chellin got up as well, graveness spreading across his features, “And they could use us meddling with their ship as an inciting incident.”   
“Yes,” Garrigon grabbed his helmet from the desk sprinted around it towards the door, “We need to get a message to them right now!” 

“That sounds like something they’d do,” Jiik shook his head, gulping down his fifth mug of caf, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happens.”   
“But we have no defense if that is the case, only the word of some hick who was probably paid to claim it was his,” Garrigon argued, frantically hailing Fallstra-II.   
“You and I both know that idiot wasn’t with them,” Jiik grunted, “And I thought you were on board with this or is our trust in you mistaken?”  
Garrigon bristled, “Unlike both of you, I didn’t grow up with these stories. I only found out about them a few years ago, so forgive me if I’m still processing how something like this has gone unnoticed for almost three centuries.”   
“Not unnoticed but uncontacted,” corrected Chellin, “and I don’t think we should be questioning his allegiances, Jiik. He’s been willing to believe me no matter how crazy my theories have gotten.”   
“You could say that again,” he muttered, “I’ve sent the standby orders, but we’ll have to wait.”   
“If you both were so worried about this, why’d you let them go in the first place?” Jiik asked over the humm of the small caf machine on the far side of the room, “If anything, this should provide more answers than we’d ever get on our own.”   
“Not if that run in on Tatooine is any indication of how they feel about us,” Garrigon reminded them, “They’re hostile and incredibly defensive right now. If they’ve allowed us to get close it’s because they have an ulterior motive, you have to see that,” he implored.   
Jiik shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. We’re this close,” he held up two fingers barely an inch away from one another, “If we give up now we’ll lose them for good. When are we going to get another chance like this?”   
One of the technicians walking along a row of sunken terminals jogged up to them with a small memory stick. He handed it to Chellin.   
“I found it,” he said, standing at attention, “It took us the better part of a month but the transmission exists. It’s...really old. It might be corrupted in some places.”  
“That’s fine,” Chellin said with a smile and an almost imperceptible glance at Jiik, “Thank you and send my regards to the others. I may have another job for you all soon.”   
The technician nodded and backed away, exiting the room and leaving the three men alone.   
“If that’s what I think it is, it’s proof enough,” said Garrigon, cutting the air with his hand, “We can call off this mission and get them home before they stir anything up that we can’t handle.”   
“You talk about them as if they’re not like us,” Jiik growled, “and I think that’s part of your problem.”   
“My problem?”  
“Yes,” the Togruta continued, ignoring Chellin’s hand on his shoulder, “I’m starting to think that’s why they’ve stayed away from us, from the Clans. I think they believe we don’t see them as equals, as one of us.”   
Garrigon raised a brow, “You think, or you know?”  
“Drop it, both of you!” Chellin ordered before Jiik could react. Jiik, a far larger and more muscular individual, knew that neither of them could hold him back if he really wanted to throw down..but out of loyalty he backed off.   
“Tell me when they’ve responded,” Jiik said, dumping out the rest of his caf and leaving the mug on the console, “I promised Tir I’d visit him.”   
Garrigon watched him leave with a look of indignant incredulity on his face.   
“If they weren’t a myth I’d question why you keep him around,” he remarked once the Togruta was out of earshot.   
Chelling didn’t respond. He was rolling the memory stick over and over in his hand, thinking about what Garrigon couldn't discern.   
“You know,” he murmured mostly to himself, “If they were a myth, this would be a whole lot worse.”


End file.
